


In Good Hands

by Sholio



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 18:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14195604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: Edwin Jarvis helps Ana get clean after bringing her home from the hospital.





	In Good Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sixbeforelunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/gifts).



In spite of dear Edwin bringing her everything in the hospital that he thought would make her more comfortable, there was no substitute for being home. Ana drowsed luxuriously in her own bed, in a gown that Edwin had helped her change into, waking when he brought her tea and soup, then sleeping some more.

She was so tired at first, after the drive home, that she felt as if she would sleep forever, but eventually she drifted awake at some later point. It was dark outside the windows, and she couldn't tell if she'd been asleep for two hours or two days. She had a vague recollection of Edwin napping with her for awhile, but he was not in the bedroom now.

After lying for awhile to see if she would fall back asleep, she resigned herself to the fact that she probably wasn't sleeping anymore for awhile. She was itchy, uncomfortable, and desperately wanted to wash her hair, but she couldn't quite bring herself to get up and risk aggravating the ache in her abdomen when it had finally started to feel not quite so bad. After awhile, a certain need for the bathroom joined her other discomfort. She was just about drag herself out of bed anyway when there was a very soft tap on the bedroom door. Edwin peeked into the darkened bedroom and then started to turn away.

"Wait, dear." Ana tried to push herself up on the pillows and flopped down again with a frustrated sigh when the movement tugged sharply on her stitches. It was so very dreary, being ill.

"Are you awake? I was going to let you sleep." Edwin came in and she felt the bed dip under him before he flicked on the bedroom light and smiled at her. He looked tired, dear man.

"I'm afraid I've slept too much and now I can sleep no more," she admitted. "I think I would like some help getting up, if you don't mind?"

"I could never mind."

He helped her to her feet. She swayed at first, but got her balance after a moment's dizziness. She really was getting better; she could tell her strength was coming back. She'd only tired herself out terribly that afternoon.

"Where would you like to go, my love?"

"The bathroom, perhaps?" she suggested. 

Edwin helped her there. She did what she needed to do and gazed longingly at the tub, but she was strictly prohibited from baths until the stitches were out. She understood the necessity, but oh, she _did_ itch. A nurse had helped her wash her hair in the hospital, but it seemed ages ago now.

After swallowing another pain pill with a glass of water, she limped out again, and Edwin was waiting to swoop down on her and help her to a chair. "What would you like? A book? A footstool? A cup of tea, perhaps?"

"A bath," she admitted with a small laugh, "but that's the one thing I'm not likely to have for awhile."

"Au contraire."

She looked up at him. "Edwin, the doctor was _very_ clear."

"So he was, my dear, but I spoke to the nurses and I believe I could make myself a passable nurse for you, if you'd like some help getting clean."

"Oh," she said. There was a part of her that wanted to tell him not to put himself to any trouble, but it was swept away by the desperate allure of doing away with the itching and stickiness and the smell of hospital. "Oh ... Edwin, that would be lovely."

She rested in the chair, almost drowsing, until he came in again with a large bowl of steaming water. Ana had to stifle a laugh: his shirtsleeves were rolled up, a towel neatly thrown over his shoulder and another draped over his arm. It was second nature, she thought. He just _did_ things like that out of habit. Edwin had spoken sometimes of traveling in the Himalayas with his employer before Mr. Stark, and she could imagine their camp with all the camping gear neatly arranged in tidy lines, the tin camp cups polished until they shone ...

"What are you smiling about, my dear?" Edwin asked, kneeling to set the bowl of water on the floor. 

"Only thinking how much I love you," she said, and it was true.

He brought over another chair and put it behind the one she was sitting on. "I thought we'd do this in the bathroom?" she said.

"I think it would be easier here, so you can sit down. Let me do your hair first."

She only nodded and leaned her head back. 

Edwin undid the pins and took her hair down from the loose knots into which she'd wound it to keep it from tangling while she slept. He had selected a chair for her with a reclining back, which he put down and then lifted her head with one hand while draping a towel over the back of the chair. It was altogether not unlike being at a salon, which made her smile again.

"You may spoil Mr. Stark's chair," she warned as he came back from the bathroom with a small pitcher and some of her bath things.

"I believe Mr. Stark can afford to buy another," was his dry response.

He knelt beside her and laid out her bottles of different shampoos and scents, which was the last thing she saw before closing her eyes. There was soft splashing behind her and she smelled roses and citrus as he scented the water.

Then warm water splashed over her scalp and she let out an involuntary sigh.

"Is it too hot?" Edwin asked anxiously. "Too cold?"

"It is perfect," she breathed in bliss.

It was all she could do not to moan in relief as Edwin's gentle hands worked shampoo through her long hair and stroked her scalp. When they first married, having him wash her hair in the bathtub had been an occasional indulgence that she had reveled in -- usually followed up by other marital activities. They hadn't done it in years, and it wasn't particularly erotic this time; it was just a blissful relief. 

When he finished sluicing the cooling water over her head, she had to rouse herself enough to respond to his reassurance that he would be back in a moment. She drifted happily until the door opened and closed again. The chair was cranked upright; she opened her eyes sleepily to find Edwin kneeling at her feet, reaching around her to the chair's controls. (Made by Mr. Stark, probably, she thought, but at least it hadn't exploded or tried to consume her. The man must have a _few_ successful inventions.)

"And now, my dear, let us do away with this robe."

She let him help her get it off over her shoulder, and then submitted to being gently sponge-bathed with warm, lightly floral-scented water. By the end she didn't even care that she hadn't had a proper bath. She was almost dazed with bliss, her knees wobbling as Edwin helped her up and got her into a clean robe.

"Would you like to sit up?" he asked her, kissing the damp top of her head. "Or sleep?"

It surprised her to find she was sleepy again. Well, the doctors had said sleep would help her heal. "Sleep, perhaps?"

He helped her into bed, and at her request, pinned up her hair again, winding it against her scalp with deft fingers. "Are you quite sure I can't bring you anything else?" he asked, plumping up the pillows around her.

She patted his hand. "I have everything I need. Truly. I _am_ sorry to be such a bother."

"The only bother to me, love," Edwin said gently, "would be not having you to pamper."

It came out with a slight break at the end, and she looked up, startled, but he was already rising swiftly to gather the bath things and carry them out of the room.

Some time later -- she didn't know how long -- she felt him slide into bed beside her, and sleepily molded her body to his.

Recovering from a gunshot wound was as dreary and unpleasant as one might expect, she thought as she drifted to sleep, but no woman on Earth could possibly be luckier in their husband than she.


End file.
